P  S 

1029 

A18 

M4 

1893 

MAIN 


,'';'. ;'!  i  ft!  Wt"  fKn  W'*VpjV/?^AV,w 


en 


LIBRARY 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


OF1 


Received 
Accession  N 


1898.. 
.    C/^s  No. 


MEM0IRS  AND   VERSES 


.  .  .  of  .  .  . 


H,  ALEXANDER 


GOMPILED   BY 


HIS     6HILDREN 


SAJN    JOSE,    CAblFORNIA 


1893. 


OF 


YERSES. 

Memoirs  of  An  Old  Forty-niner                                              -         -  n 

The  Littleness  of  Man                            ......  i^ 

To  My  Wife    -  15 

Watching  Our  Boy                                                                 .         .  -      17 

To  Henry         -                                                                                    -  19 

Birthday  Greeting  —  to  Nellie  -     20 

On  Viewing  the  Ocean     -                                                          -          -  22 

Carrying  the  Gospel  Around   the   World  -     23 

To  Will  and  Sallie                                                                                .  24 

To  Howard                                                                                     -  .     25 

True  Greatness — to  John                   ------  26 

Greetings  on  Her  Wedding  Day— to  May                              -  -     28 

To  Will  and  Edith  29 

Wedding  Bells  —  to  Will  and  Edith  -  .     30 

Why  Not  Rest? 3I 

Reminiscence                                     -33 

To  Edith                   -      £-~                 .         -         -         -         -         .  36 

To  Laura     -         -         -         -                   -     37 

Atiother  Mile-stone  —  To  Will  and  Sallie        ....  38 

A  Request  -                                                        .....  09 


BIOGRAPHICAL. 


\From  the  "San   Jose   Daily  Mercury"   November  27,    /Sgj.\ 

JOHN    HENDERSON    ALEXANDER,   after  a  lingering  illness 
of  about  a  year,   quietly  passed  away,  at  9:30  o'clock,  yester 
day    morning,     at   his    home,     No.    313    South    Tenth    Street, 
surrounded  by  his  family. 

Last  June  he  received  a  slight  stroke  of  paralysis  from  which 
he  never  recovered  ;  although  at  times  he  rallied,  he  has  been 
gradually  sinking  since. 

He  was  born  September  25,  1826,  on  the  French  Broad  River, 
Greene  County,  Tennessee.  He  was  the  third  son  of  James  Russell 
Alexander,  who  served  as  Judge  of  the  Circuit  Court  for  twelve 
years,  in  Franklin,  Indiana.  Mr.  Alexander  was  raised  on  a  farm, 
where  he  developed  a  strong  physique.  He  had  hoped  to  go  to  col 
lege,  but  his  father's  heavy  losses  in  the  panic  of  1837  made  it 
necessary  for  him  to  stay  at  home. 

Though  deprived  of  this  boon,  he  was  not  disconcerted,  and 
set  about  to  acquire  an  education  as  best  he  could.  He  always 
carried  a  little  pocket  dictionary  and  would  look  up  and  study  the 
meaning  of  any  new  word  he  might  hear. 

Moving  to  St.  Louis  in  1844,  he  entered  the  employ  of  the 
wholesale  firm  of  J.  H.  Gay  &  Co.  as  office  boy.  Here,  by  close 
application  to  business,  attending  night  school,  and  by  using  every 
means  at  his  command  to  cultivate  and  develop  himself,  he  was 
rapidly  promoted. 

In  1849  he  caught  the  gold  fever,  and  joining  with  a  large  party, 
he  started  across  the  plains  for  the  golden  State.  After  the  usual 
experiences  of  such  a  journey,  driving  oxen  by  day,  and  fighting 

[7] 


off  Indians  by  night,  he  arrived  in  the  northern  part  of  the  State 
after  having  been  six  months  on  the  road. 

He  went  immediately  to  the  mines,  where  he  did  quite  well ; 
but  the  work  there  completely  broke  down  his  health  and  he  re 
turned  to  vSt.  Louis  via  the  Isthmus  route  in  1850.  He  took  his 
place  in  the  old  firm  as  book-keeper,  where  he  remained  until  1852, 
when  the  irresistible  attractions  of  California  again  called  him  to 
this  Coast. 

He  spent  some  time  in  the  mines,  but  mostly  in  Sacramento 
and  San  Francisco,  where  he  was  in  the  employ  of  D.  Lord  &  Co. 
as  book-keeper  and  cashier.  Here  he  remained  until  1859,  when 
he  returned  to  St.  Louis,  again  entering  the  employ  of  the  old  firm, 
now  changed  to  Edward  J.  Gay  &  Co.,  serving  them  faithfully  and 
well  until  1880,  when  he  resigned  his  position  as  book-keeper  and 
cashier  on  account  of  failing  health. 

When  in  California  before,  he  had  heard  of  the  Garden  City,  of 
its  beauties  and  attractions,  and  believing  a  change  would  be  a 
benefit,  decided  to  make  San  Jose  his  home,  and  moved  here  Feb- 
rurary  3,  1880. 

He  was  secretary  and  cashier  of  the  San  Jose  Independent 
Mill  and  Lumber  Company  for  a  number  of  years,  resigning  the  ist 
of  last  January  on  account  of  broken  health. 

Those  who  knew  Mr.  Alexander  best  loved  him  most.  He  had 
a  large  circle  of  friends  who  miss  his  genial  countenance  and  pleas 
ant  smile.  He  always  had  a  pleasant  word  for  everyone  he  met. 
He  was  an  unselfish  man,  ever  striving  to  do  something  for  some 
one,  forgetting  self  in  his  eagerness  to  help  others. 

Mr.  Alexander  never  entered  political  life,  although  many  op 
portunities  were  offered,  always  preferring  his  family  circle  to 
positions  of  state.  There  he  will  be  most  missed.  He  was  particu 
larly  kind  and  generous  at  home,  ever  studying  how  he  might  give 
something  to,  or  do  something  for  his  loved  ones  ;  always  kind  and 
gentle,  smiling  and  happy,  never  complaining  ;  and  his  large  heart 
made  warm  the  home  which  his  smile  brightened. 

A  man  of  more  than  ordinary  intelligence,  of  the  strictest  in 
tegrity  and  sterling  worth,  an  old  friend  says,  "Whatever  John 

[8] 


Alexander  says  he  will  do,  you  can  depend  upon  its  being  done,  no 
matter  what  the  cost." 

A  Christian  man,  having  perfect  faith  and  confidence  in  the 
Almighty  to  keep  that  which  he  had  committed  unto  that  great 
day  ;  a  Bible  student,  ever  enjoying,  more  and  more,  the  study  of 
that  great  work  ;  a  man  systematic  in  all  details,  with  high  ideals, 
noble  motives  and  pure  aspirations. 

He  will  be  missed  by  many  loving  friends  ;  all  who  knew  him 
revered  him. 

He  leaves  a  widow  and  five  children — Henry  J.,  Mrs.  Nellie 
Keith,  William  G.,  Howard  A.,  and  John  E. 


[  Editorial  from  the  "'San  Jose  Daily  Mercury,"  of  the  same  date.} 

By  the  death  of  John  H.  Alexander,  San  Jose  loses  a  citizen 
whose  personality  was  felt  in  many  ways  throughout  the  com- 
nmnity.  In  business  and  in  social  circles  his  influence  was  widely 
and  strongly  impressed  upon  the  city.  A  Southerner  by  birth  and 
breeding,  a  Westerner  by  training,  a  California  pioneer  by  expe 
rience,  he  was  a  fine  example  of  the  typical  American.  His  nature 
developed  under  the  diverse  environments  amid  which  he  lived  at 
different  periods  of  his  life  into  a  character  at  once  strong  and 
tender,  noble  and  lovable.  He  united  the  stately  courtesy  of  the 
Old  South  with  the  freedom  and  ease  of  the  West  and  the  open- 
hearted,  open-handed  generosity  and  cordiality  of  California. 

Having  had  an  experience  in  life  which  developed  to  the  full 
est  extent  the  powers  and  impulses  of  his  many  sided  nature,  Mr. 
Alexander  was  able  to  find  points  of  mutual  sympathy  and  interest 
with  almost  every  one  with  whom  he  came  in  contact.  Few  men 
ever  practiced  more  thoroughly  than  he  the  saying  of  Solomon  : 
"He  that  hath  friends  must  show  himself  friendly."  The  extent 
to  which  his  friendliness  was  shown  is  attested  by  the  wide  spread 
circle  that  mourns  his  loss  to  day,  and  shares  the  sorrow  of  his  be 
reaved  family.  He  will  be  remembered  in  many  a  heart  and  many 

[9] 


a  household  for  the  innumerable  little  acts  of  courtesy,  of  kindness 
and  of  help  that  made  up  the  daily  tenor  of  his  life.  He  sought  no 
political  preferment,  but  he  served  the  public  welfare  faithfully  and 
efficiently  in  his  private  station.  Every  duty  of  a  citizen,  as  well 
as  of  a  friend,  was  fulfilled  by  him  ;  and  the  esteem  in  which  he 
was  held  passed  beyond  the  circle  of  those  who  knew  him  person 
ally  and  was  felt  by  the  whole  community. 


[10] 


Memoirs  of  an  ©Id 


OW  brief  is  the  period  from  youth  to  old  age, 

And  how  swiftly  speeds  time  when  once  we  engage 
In  the  battle  of  life,  with  its  hopes  and  its  fears, 
And  counting  but  mile-stones  which  mark  off  the  years 
We  leave  all  the  green  spots  which  make  life  so  sweet, 
And  hardly  look  back  till  old-timers  repeat 
The  story  of  those  days,  which  radiantly  shine 
As  a  grand  beacon  light,  our  old  forty- nine. 

We  pause  ere  we  start  on  that  wonderful  trip, 
Some  crossing  the  plains  and  some  by  way  of  ship, 
For  Eldorado's  fair  land,  the  place  of  the  gold, 
Which  vied  even  Ophir  in  its  wealth  yet  untold  ; 
And  linger  the  while  in  fondest  embraces 
Of  kindred  and  friends,  whose  dear  loving  faces 
Told  plainly  that  in  us  their  hopes  were  all  resting; 
We  bade  them  adieu — Then_mother's  fond  blessing. 

And  then  on  our  way,  on  that  vast  plain  so  grand, 
With  hope  fully  resting  on  that  far  distant  land, 
What  more  could  we  ask  or  heart  more  desire 
As  we  gathered  around  our  first  night's  camp-fire  ? 


Yet  mindful  of  danger  so  common  to  all, 

We  then  breathed  a  prayer  that  naught  might  befall, 

And  there  'neath  the  stars,  with  the  moon  shining  bright, 

We  pledged  to  each  other  our  faith  on  that  night. 

How  light  were  our  hearts  ;  how  ready  to  embrace 
Ev'ry  chance  for  a  hunt  or  a  buffalo  chase  ! 
And  the  grand  scenes  and  sports,  so  new  and  so  rare, 
Filled  our  eyes  with  wonder  and  kept  off  dull  care. 
But  the  scene  soon  changes,  when  sound  sleepers  start 
In  that  dire  confusion,  which  filled  ev'ry  heart 
With  horror  and  dread,  as  the  wild  Indian  yell 
Broke  silence  that  night,  like  a  fearful  death  knell. 

But  to  scalp-knife  or  arrow  we  were  not  fated, 
Yet  troubles  in  camp-life  were  oft  unabated  ; 
And  the  long  weary  months  of  toil  and  privation, 
Oft  mingled  with  hunger—almost  to  starvation — 
May  tell  their  own  story  of  those  perilous  times 
When  pioneers  sought  California's  gold  mines. 
Who  then  would  not  honor,  in  sweet  minstrel  strain, 
The  deeds  of  those  heroes— by  sea  and  by  plain  ? 

But  who  in  true  colors,  will  e'er  paint  those  scenes 
Which  moved  ev'ry  heart,  who  had  courage  and  means 
To  reach  that  far  country  !     Then,  gold  was  the  rage 
Which  guided  the  footsteps  of  youth  and  old  age  ; 
And  while  multitudes  chose  to  sail  o'er  the  main, 
Our  journey  was  made  on  an  overland  train. 
Thus  the  seas  and  the  plains,  all  working  with  fate, 
Soon  changed  vast  wilds  into  a  flourishing  State. 

[12] 


And  who  can  e'er  fathom  the  deep  raging  sea, 
Which  holds  many  comrades  of  both  you  and  me, 
And  who  will  e'er  find  the  rude  mounds  often  made 
In  silence  and  sorrow  o'er  the  friends  we  there  laid 
In  solitude's  grave  on  that  vast  dreary  plain, 
Where  none  may  strew  flowers  nor  friends  come  again  ! 
Then  dream  not  that  roses  filled  quite  all  the  way 
Which  led  forty-niners  in  that  early  day. 

How  few  now  remain  of  that  wonderful  throng, 
Which  first  wielded  pick  and  filled  mountain  with  song, 
Who  faced  every  danger  with  hearts  brave  and  true, 
To  hand  down  a  blessing  for  me  and  for  you. 
And  many  filled  rude  graves  in  those  days  of  yore, 
Where  no  mother  might  weep,  no  friend  might  deplore, 
Who,  then,  will  withold  a  garland  or  tear, 
As  we  make  a  mound  over  an  old  pioneer  ? 

May  /,   1891. 


[13] 


bittlen^ss  of  Man. 


TT7  ELL  me,  why  should  mortals  boast, 

:  Or  why  should  man  be  proud  ? 

=-=-  =      Can  he  redeem  a  soul  that's  lost, 
Or  carry  it  beyond  the  cloud? 

Can  he,  at  will,  give  length  of  days, 
And  satisfy  the  longing  heart — 

Perfection  show  in  all  his  ways, 
And  truth  in  every  part  ? 

Can  he,  by  wisdom  of  his  own, 

Rule  this  great  world  of  ours, 

"J61 

And  from  his  self-created  throne 

Bring  bounty  and  blooming  flowers  ? 

We  doubt  if  man,  in  his  estate, 

Can  e'e'r  the  secret  find, 
To  guide  the  spheres,  anew  create, 

Or  satisfy  the  mind. 

Then,  say,  why  should  mortals  boast, 
Or  why  should  man  be  proud  ? 

He  enters  life  a  worm  of  dust, 
And  leaves  with  but  a  shroud. 

September,  1889. 

[14] 


My 


1  F  we  would  sing  full  meed  of  praise 
•  Of  one  whose  virtues  claim  our  love, 

We'd  touch  our  harps,  while  anthems  raise 
In  chorus  to  the  choirs  above. 

With  deepest  love,  in  minstrel  strain, 
0         We'd  join  the^hosts  of  seraphs  bright — 
In  chanting  songs,  in  sweet  refrain, 
In  tribute  to  our  household  light. 

We'd  sing  of  days  now  long  since  past, 

When  hopes  were  young  and  hearts  were  free, 

And  when  her  radiance  ever  cast 
The  light  of  hope  and  joy  for  me. 

And  then  we'd  sing  of  after  years — 

When  home  was  chief  of  all  our  joys  ; 

When  crowning  work,  nor  doubts,  nor  fears, 
She  gave  to  home  her  girl  and  boys. 

We'd  gather  garlands  of  rarest  kind 
And  strew  them  in  her  pathway  now  ; 

Her  deeds  of  love  have  ever  twined 

Our  hearts  with  that  which  wreathes  her  brow. 


[15] 


No  more  may  human  lips  bestow, 
Nor  angel  voice  be  taught  to  sing, 

That  we — in  accents  whispered  low — 
The  tribute  of  our  hearts  now  bring. 

We  bow  in  love  to  that  fair  shrine 

Where  hand  and  heart,  and  life,  and  love, 

Like  gentle  dew  doth  e'er  refine 
And  fit  us  for  our  home  above. 


I\farch  25,   1891. 


[.6] 


ir     @ur 


w 


E  watched  him  and  listened 

To  that  little  voice, 
Which  made  papa's  heart  glad, 

And  mamma's  rejoice. 


We  watched  him  in  babyhood, 
With  the  tenderest  care, 

And  gave  him  of  caresses 
A  bountiful  share. 


We  watched  him  in  childhood, 
When  Summers  were  bright, 

When  play-house  and  drum  filled 
His  heart  writh  delight. 

We  watched  him  in  boyhood, 

Through  bright  sunny  hours, 

When  his  dreams  were  delight — 
His  pathway  but  flowers. 

We  have  watched  him  in  youth, 
When  life  was  all  hope — 

When  the  future  was  pictured 
As  a  bright  sunny  slope. 

[17] 


We  watched  him,  and,  watching, 
His  school-days  have  ended  ; 

We  find  baby  and  boy 

Into  manhood  have  blended. 

Yes,  we  watched  him  all  through, 
Since  his  first  rising  sun  ; 

We  are  watching  him  now, 
At  twenty  and  one. 

And  thus  while  still  watching, 
Our  life  here  gives  o'er, 

We'll  be  waiting  for  him 
On  the  golden  shore. 


February  28,  1888. 


[18] 


fpo 


N  life's  early  morning,  when  hope  was  so  high, 

With  the  cares  and  the  toils  of  life  yet  unknown, 
While  the  glory  of  youth  was  then  passing  by, 

Visions  were  created  of  a  world  all  your  own. 
The  enchantment  of  scenes  which  then  fill'd  the  eye, 

Gave  lustre  to  pleasure  and  banished  all  fears, 
3  With  your  pathway  gilded  by  an  unclouded  sky 

The  joy  of  your  heart  was  unmingled  with  tears. 

Thus  the  spring-time  of  life,  with  its  first  golden  ray, 

And  the  joy  of  those  hours  which  childhood  then  knew, 
Like  the  pure  gems  of  ocean,  will  ne'er  fade  away, 

And  fond  recollection  will  oft  welcome  it,  too. 
And  we  breathe  in  soft  accents  an  unfeigned  prayer 

That  fate  may  deal  kindly, — while  marking  off  time,— 
With  heaven's  best  blessing  bestowed  in  full  share, 

While  the  enchantments  of  youth  may  ever  be  thine. 


June  12,  1891. 


[19] 


©reefin. 


E  off  turn  to  days  in  our  annals  of  time, 

When  our  pathway  was  strewed  with  garlands  so  fair ; 
And  gather  sweet  memories,  which  fondly  entwine 

Our  hearts  around  dear  ones,  of  our  own  loving  care. 
Thus  we  hail  with  delight  the  return  of  this  day, 

And  welcome  it  ever,  a  bright  little  spot 
Which  shines  like  the  gleam  of  a  bright,  golden  ray 

On  the  years  that  have  gone,  though  never  forgot. 

Then  touch  in  soft  strains  the  harp  or  the  lyre ; 

Let  us  sing  joyful  songs  in  sweet  minstrel  lay— 
Awaken  the  chords  which  a  soul  may  inspire, 

As  we  give  fond  greeting  to  our  daughter's  birthday  : 
For  who  was  the  star  of  our  household,  in  years 

When  life  was  so  radiant  with  hope  and  with  joy, 
And  who  cheered  our  lives,  in  its  doubts  and  its  fears, 

And  wove  that  fond  fabric  which  naught  can  destroy. 

Though  years  in  life's  journey  have  passed  from  our  view, 

With  young  life's  enchantments  now  fading  away ; 
Yet  the  bright  glow  of  youth  still  lingers  with  you, 

While  fond  recollections  return  with  this  day. 
Thus  we  glean  from  the  past  bright  relics  of  joy, 

And  revel  in  pleasures  which  the  hours  then  knew, 
While  our  hearts  and  our  hands  we  all  would  employ 

In  off 'ring  love's  greeting,  with  a  blessing  for  you. 

[20] 


Where  gather  we  fragrance,  to  cheer  autumn  days, 

But  the  home  of  our  youth,  when  affections  were  new ; 
The  flowers,  though  breathing  sun's  life-giving  rays, 

Return  for  their  fragrance  to  morning's  fresh  dew. 
Thus  affections  which  kindled  in  life's  early  youth, 

Glow  brighter  with  age,  and  lend  charms  evermore, 
And  the  heart  thus  entwined  with  infancy's  truth, 

Already  has  foretaste  of  heaven's  bright  shore. 

September  24,  1891. 


[21] 


©n  Viewin     %  ©eean. 


OLL  on,  mighty  billows,  O  thou  raging  deep, 

But  within  thy  limits  be  ever  confined  ; 
And  let  murmurs  their  vigils  continue  to  keep, 

Thus  obeying  behests  which  thy  Maker  designed. 
For  who  gave  thee  motion  and  called  forth  the  sounds 

That  lull  to  repose  whom  thy  waters  now  claim  ; 
And  who  formed  the  seas  and  then  set  the  bounds 

Over  seas  and  the  land  with  unerring  aim  ? 

'Twas  thy  Maker  and  God,  whose  absolute  might 

Ever  rules  in  eternity's  infinite  space, 
And  whose  wondrous  decree  has  sent  forth  the  light 

To  reflect  back  the  glory  of  creation's  fair  face. 
But,  when  the  trumpet  notes  of  Gabriel  sound — 

To  once  more  unite  whom  their  Maker  adore, 
And  Omnipotent' s  works  shall  all  have  been  crowned, 

Then,  the  voice  of  thy  waves  shall  be  heard  nevermore. 

Seabright,  July  25,  1892. 


[22] 


fye  ($or\d. 

#••• 


I~Ie  worked  in  the  vineyard  of  the  true  vine, 
Carrying  its  broad  borders  into  every  clime, 
TV/Taking  ready  for  harvesting  in  every  place, 
In  every  hamlet,  and  among  every  race. 
Nor  stayed  he  the  work,  nor  doubt  nor  fear, 
Till  the  westwardly  worker  in  the  east  did  appear. 
On  speed  the  work,  thus  wisely  begun, 
Nor  stay  in  its  progress   till  harvesting's  done. 


[23] 


(po 


and  §>alli(. 


SO  W  swiftly  speeds  the  flight  of  time  ; 
How  little  do  we  heed  its  flight ; 
•-—     No  sooner  the  sun  begins  to  shine 

Then  mark  the  dial  for  approaching  night. 

No  sooner  the  babes  that  gave  us  joy, 

Had  ceased  to  kneel  at  a  mother's  knee, 

Than  we  find  the  full-grown  girl  and  boy, 
Crossing  the  line  of  their  twenty  and  three. 

Well  may  we  pause  in  time's  swift  flight, 

And  give  due  heed  to  the  present  occasion  ; 
'       For  one  goes  forth,  single-handed,  to  fight, 
While  the  other  is  of  double  persuasion. 

What  shall  we  gather  from  passing  events, 

Blended  so  closely  with  our  hopes  and  our  joys? 

How  fill  the  measure,  that  evil  prevents— 

Always  best  serving  our  girls  and  our  boys  ? 

Train  them  early,  all  vices  to  shun, 

Point  out  plainly  the  source  of  all  truth. 

Then  trustfully  rest,  work  being  all  done  ; 
They  cannot  forget  the  teachings  of  youth. 

February  25,  1890. 

[24] 


OW  swiftly  the  years  have  come  and  have  gone, 
Leaving  the  footprints  which  ever  remind  us 
That  this  mortal  life,  however  'tis  run, 
Very  soon  at  its  autumn  shall  find  us. 

From  youth  to  old  age  is  a  song  off  sung — 

The  heroes  are  those  whose  heads  wear  the  gray 

But  the  theme  of  my  song — just  twenty  and  one — 
Now  battles  with  life  in  youth's  bright  array. 

No  longer  the  babe,   so  fondly  caressed, 

No  longer  the  child — our  pride  and  our  joy — 

But  firm  in  his  manhood,   with  duty  impressed, 
He  is  our  loved  son,   our  owrn   darling  boy. 

Then  let  us  so  blend  with  life's  autumn  time 
The  garlands  we  gather  in  youth's  early  days, 

Thus  filling  our  present  with  all  that's  sublime, 
As  we  journey  from  dawn  to  sun-setting  rays. 

Thus  time  in  its  way  will  weave  us  a  web 
Of  fabric  so  strong  'twill  never  decay, 

And  surround  us  by  love,  in  life  at  its  ebb, 

With  visions  of  joy  like  hope's  brightest  ray. 
February  2, 


[25] 


fprue  (aptness. 


ROM  creation's  first  dawn,  down  the  vista  of  years, 

We  trace  the  same  stream  which  flows  on  to  the  end  : 
U n restful  mankind,  with  new  hopes  and  new  fears, 
All  joined  in  the  way  to  which  mortals  all  tend  ; 
All  groping  in  darkness— in  mystified  ways- 
All  searching  for  light,  and  perfection's  fair  goal  ; 
:-    But  the  light,  now  breaking,  though  in  faint,  feeble  rays, 
Will  satisfy  longings  which  are  born  in  the  soul. 

Thus  searching  for  wisdom,  in  the  mazes  of  time, 

We  gather  up  fragments  from  each  little  web, 
Which  weave  into  fabric  that  makes  life  sublime 

And  radiates  the  soul  in  life  at  its  ebb. 
Thus  we  glean  from  the  past  bright  relics  of  truth, 

Which  fall  like  the  sunbeams  from  unclouded  skies, 
And  thus  kindles  the  hope  which  animates  youth 

And  reveals  to  mankind  where  true  greatness  lies. 

Whence  spring  the  great  forests— from  seeds  sown  in  earth 
What  moulds  the  great  mind,   but  infancy's  truth  ; 

What  advancement  in  man  he  owes  not  to  birth, 

And  the  training  of  thought,  while  yet  in  his  youth. 

[26] 


The  vessel  is  moulded  while  yet  in  the  clay  ; 

The  plant  while  yet  tender  is  nourished  with  care. 
While  the  gem  of  true  life,  that  fades  not  away, 

Is  born  in  the  soul,  and  true  greatness  is  there. 

No  human  ambition,  though  it  echo  with  fame, 

Can  stop  life's  decay  or  call  back  fleeting  breath  ; 
No  achievement  of  man,  of  whatever  name. 

Can  revive  the  dull  ear  that  sleeps  in  cold  death. 
But  true  greatness  will  live,  and  the  requiem  sing 

Over  frailties  and  follies  of  human  events 
When  they've  crumbled  to  dust,  and  then  it  will  bring, 

While  approaching  its  God,  its  own  recompense. 


June  24,  1891. 


[27] 


t 


on 


the  angels  were  gathering  garlands  fair, 
And  strewing  them  upon   the  way, 
They  found  a  bud-  of  rarest  hues, 
And  called  it  the  Queen  of  May. 

Then  winging  their  way  on  pinions  bright, 
They  lingered  full  many  an  hour, 

But  coming  again  they  find  a  rose — 

Full-blown — crowning  the  nuptial  bower. 

The  rose  may  blush  its  rarest  hues 

And  all  the  flowers  be  bright, 
The  angels  may  sing  their  gladdest  songs 

And  make  all  the  world  delight; 

Yet  naught  a  fairer  scene  could  paint, 
What'er  of  song  or  bright  array, 

Than  the  nuptial  vows,  just  sealed  in  love, 
That  made  one  of  Frank  and  May. 


May  14,  1890. 


[28] 


fpo  09111  and  Edith. 


mAY  their  love  for  each  other  ever  be 
As  broad  as  the  ocean, 
As  deep  as  the  sea, 
As  lasting  as  time, 
And  as  strong  as  the  ties  which  have  bound 

them  together; 
While  their  lives  may  ever  be 

Like  new  hope  begun — 
Disappointment  none — 

TTill  life's  wrork  is  done ; 
Then,  with  joy  in  their  hearts,   may  they 
cross  the  last  river. 


December  23,  1890. 


r  _ 

[29J  OK   THK       ' 

3IT^ 


Bells. 


09111  and 


°ft'   Ka^ier  fragrance  from  days  that  are  past, 
And  twine  it  about  us,   thus  letting  it  cast 

The  sunlight  of  gladness  on  time's  present  hour. 
But  pale  is  the  past,   in  this  our  new  joy— 
The  fulfillment  of  hope—  complete  in  our  boy, 

While  plighting  his  faith  'neath  the  nuptial  bower. 

Sweet  memories  oft'  cheer  us,  in  life's  autumn  days, 
And  shine  on  our  path  like  sun-setting  rays, 

Thus  sweetening  the  present  with  the  nectar  of  life  ; 
But  our  ever-fond  hearts  now  fill  with  delight, 
While  the  angels  are  tuning  their  harps,   ever  bright, 

To  join  in  a  welcome  to  our  boy  and  his  wife. 

With  truest  good  wishes,  none  better  could  be 
Than  adding  God's  blessing,  we  ask  it  for  thee, 

In  fullness  of  measure  on  all  that  is  given  ; 
With  full  length  of  years—  while  none  that  are  dark— 
And  the  angel  of  mercy  to  guide  on  thy  bark 

Through  all  peaceful  ways,  then  moor  it  in  heaven. 


December  2j,  1890. 


[30] 


vSOUGHT  for  a  flower, 

On  a  bright  suiniiier's    day 
But  found  them  all  faded 

And  gone  to  decay. 

I  said  to  the  fairy 

Who  sat  in  the  bower, 

"They  must  have  all  wilted 
For  wrant  of  a  shower." 

She  smiled  as  she  said, 

Without  hesitation, 
"  'Tis  no  lack  of  a  shower, 

But  on  a  vacation  ; 

"For  rest,   you  must  know, 
Is  what  we  all  need, 

And  rest  for  the  flower 
Only   ripens  the   seed. 

"  Then,  when  seed  thus  gathered, 
After  full  resting  hours, 

Gives  bounteously  of  harvest 
With   beautiful  flowers. 

[30 


"Then  learn  from  the  flowers, 
Whom  Nature  gives  rest 

That  counting-house  toiling 
Is  not  always  best. 

1 '  But,  with  business  and  care, 
Give  rest  a  small  place  ; 

Thus  ripening  the  full  years 
Of  our  allotted  space. 

To  make  one's  life    fruitful, 
'  Tis  fully  confess'd, 

Can  only  be  made  so- 
By  taking  some  rest." 

August  12,  1890. 


[32] 


Kjemir\iscence. 


OW  oft '  in  the  stillness  of  solitude's  hours 
Fond  memory  will  turn  from   these  happy  bowers 
To  the  scenes  of  the  past,  to  those  good  old  days 
When  life  was  as  golden  as  sun-setting  rays, 
When  each  day  came  manteled  with  newly-born  hope 
And  the  future  was  pictured  a  beautiful  slope  : 
Thus  revels  our  memory,  we  then  live  anew 
As  the  rose  takes  new  life  from  fresh  morning  dew. 

Those  scenes  were  the  home  of  our  earliest  joys, 
Which  gave  birth  to    new  hope  and  sheltered  our  boys  ; 
'  Twas  there  we  all  gathered  around  the  hearth-stone 
And  mingled  our  joys  and  made  them  but  one  ; 
And  there,  far  away  from  dull  business  and  care, 
While  Grandpa  sat  watching  in  his  easy  arm-chair, 
We  all  joined  the  children  in  their  romps  and  their  plays 
And  made  those  old  times  the  happiest  of  days. 

There  stood  the  hawthorn  in  the  lawn  just  below, 

And  there  were  the  maples,  all  standing  in  row, 

The  elms  in  the  meadow,  the  oaks  o'er  the  way, 

The  trees  'round  the  circle,   where  the  boys  used  to   play, 

[33] 


With  the  orchard  and  garden  and  every  lov'd  spot 
Now  sacred  in  memory,  will  ne'er  be  forgot  : 
For  this  was  the  home  of  our  once  loving  care, 
And,   whate'er  be  our  fate,   our  hearts  will  be  there. 

Who  would  not,   then,   be  in  the  happiest  mood, 
As  memory  thus  turns  to  our  home  at  "Gay-wood"? 
With  our  kindred  so  many,  and  friends  many  more, 
Each  vying  the  other  as  they  laid  at  that  door 
Some  tribute  of  honor,   some  token  of  love, 
Which  came  like  the  sunbeam  that  falls  from  above, 
Ever  brightening  the  home  we  once  used  to  share 
With  Grandpa,   as  he  sat  in  his  old  arm-chair. 

'Twastheie  we  oft  watched  with  joy  and  with  pride, 
Our  children  and  Grandpa  as  they  started  to  ride. 
They  always  drove   "Barney, "so  trusty  and  true, 
And  who  then  could  object  or  make  much  ado, 
For  Grandpa  and  our  boys  full   well  understood 
Each  lane  and  each  by-way,  each  tree  in  the  wood, 
And  while  they  oft'  lingered  full  long  on    the  plain. 
Yet  long  before  nightfall  they  found  home  again. 

And  then  came  those  days  when  school  was  attended, 
When  ev'ry    young  hope  and  new  pleasure  were  blended  ; 
While  each  day  came  clothed  in  a  mantle  of  joy, 
Which  brought  life's  best  pleasure  without  its  alloy. 
Thus,   fair  were  the  scenes  which  surrounded  that  home, 
But,   dreams  they  are  now,   for    long  since  they  have  gone 
To  that  beautiful  past,   and  no  longer  can  fill 
The  void  in  our  hearts,  which  linger  there  still. 

[34] 


Then,   while  we  pass  those  scenes  with    uncovered  head, 
We  pause  at  the  threshold  and  there  lightly  tread, 
As  we  pay  a  last  tribute  to  our  kindred  and  friend 
Whose  greatness  of  soul  and  rare  virtues  did  blend 
Into  completeness  of  manhood,  as  he  then  stood 
The  head  of  the  household  at  dear  old   "Gay-  wood." 
We  laid  him  away  gently  as  the  falling  of  dew, 
While  the  heart  of  his  friend  was  buried  there  too. 

Though  fate  has  decreed  that  our  autumn  of  days 
Should  be  spent  far  away  from  those  pleasant  ways, 
Yet  our  dreams  of  the  past  off  bring  to  us  joy 
Which  naught  can  efface  nor  can  time  e'er  destroy, 
Which  come  to  us  whispering  in  such  joyful  tongue, 
They  almost  persuade  us  we  are  again  young  ; 
Thus  the  life  we  now  live,  like  song's  sweet  refrain, 
Is  the  joy  of  those  days  lived  over  again. 


San  Jose,  Cal.,  March  25, 


[35] 


F  I  could  fly  to  loftiest  height, 

And  pluck  a  wreath  of  glory  thence, 
^    I'd  bless  the  wings  that  gave  me  flight, 
And  touch  my  lyre  in  recompense. 

I'd  place  that  wreath  of  tribute,  where 
A  crown  of  pearls  may  ne'er  be  worn  ; 

But  where  the  heart  has  fullest  share, 
In  making  gems  that  most  adorn. 

I'd  sing  the  songs  that  angels  sung, 

When  light  first  dawned  upon  the  earth — 

When  heaven's  bright  gate  wide  open  swung, 
In  welcome  to  our  daughter's  birth. 

With  love  I'd  voice,  in  minstrel  strain, 
The  welcome  which  we  give  so  free, 

While  angels  join  in  sweet  refrain 
To  waft  it  back  in   blessing  thee. 

Thus  would  we  sing,  in  tones  of  love, 
Of  one  whose  heart's  so  closely  twined 

With  ours,  in  life;   while  we  above 

One  common  home  shall  hope  to  find. 


June  /<5,  1891. 

[36] 


(po  baura. 


H 


OW  beautiful  in  life,  with  its  hopes  and  its  fears, 

To  find  in  our  pathway  that  odor  of  joy 
Which  fills  us  with  pleasure,  while  affection   appears 

And  drives  away  sorrow  ere  grief  can  destroy. 
Thus,  life's  gloomy  shadows  are  drawn  from  our  view, 

And  the  radiance  of  joy  is  shed  all  about, 
While  enchantments  that  lure  us  all  pass  in  review 

And  call  the  true  spirit  of  fragrancy  out. 

Unwritten  the  story  of  full  many  a  maid, 

Whose  heart  and  whose  hands  have  smoothed  thorny  ways, 
But  the  fountain  of  sorrow  is  already  stayed, 

When  the  light  of  affection  sends  out  its  pure  rays. 
May  the  sleep  of  such  maiden  be  guarded  by  love, 

And  the  rosiest  down  be  placed  on  her  bed, 
While  the  angel  of  mercy,  in  recording  above, 

May  vouchsafe  a  blessing  to  fall  on  her  head. 

Whence  spring  the  emotions  that  quicken  our  love? 

'Tis  a  sorrow  that's  soothed  or  a  tear  wiped  away; 
Whence  arise  the  bright  gleams  of  home  that's  above? 

'Tis  the  light  of  affection  in  hope's  purest  ray. 
'Tis  not  to  embellish  or  illumine  thy  way 

With  gems  of  creation  no  heart  can  enshrine, 
But  to  point  out  the  jewel  that  fades  not  away — 

Affection's  bright  luster — that  luster  is  thine. 

Aug.  20,  1891. 

[37] 


Mile-stone. 

Will  and  Sallie. 


NOTHRR  mile  stone  is  marked   on   the  way  — 
Another  year  came  and  has  passed  away  — 

Leaving  the  footprints  that  say  to  us,  gone  ! 
Gone  to  that  past  which  ne'er  can   awaken 
The  slumbers  of  time,   which  life  has  forsaken, 

Leaving  the  imprint  that  work  has  been  done. 

Thus  time,  as  it  moves  in  manifold  years, 
Bringing  new  hopes,  new  doubts  and  new  fears, 

Ever  moves  onward,   nor  looks  it  behind  ; 
Thus  man,   as  he  moves  in  the  mystery  of  life, 
V      Ever  looks  forward  —  while  engaged  in  its  strife  — 

Into  the  future,  his  chief  joy  to  find. 

Then  let  us  all  learn,  as  time  thus  moves  on, 
That  all  this  life's  work  has  only  begun 

That  which  is  measured  by  eternal  love. 
Then  may  we  all  use  each  moment  of  time, 
Leaving  such  mile  stones  as  will  ever  shine 

Like  gems  in  the  coronets  that  crown  us  above. 
February  25,  7891. 


[38] 


oA  Request. 


HEN  time  would  call  me  away  to  rest, 
Let  it  be  in  our  old  home,  so  dear; 
Let  it  be  when  I  am  by  loved  ones  caressed, 
When  affection  will  drive  away  every  fear. 

And  bury  me  not  in  the  cold,   cold  ground, 
While  for  life,  hope  still  lingers  to  save. 

Wait  till  my  spirit  has  left  its  frame, 
And  has  gone  to  the  God  who  gave. 

Then,  when  you  would  lay  me  out  of  sight, 
Let  it  be  in  some  green  little  spot 

Where  the  birds  may  sing  their  sweetest  songs- 
The  wild  flowers  grow,   and  forget  me  not. 

Then  make  no  heraldry  of  grief  or  show ; 

Let  my  mourners  be  those  whom  I  love, 
Nor  grieve  as  those  who  have  no  hope, 

For  we  know  we'll  be  united  above. 


[39] 


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